In between
by Nuky
Summary: A few drabbles between LLVL and LWTL. Sands and Lizz, surving each other. right now K , dunno for sure.
1. Christmas with the loca

**I have a little explaining to do before you start reading. These drabbles are all set between '**_**Livin' la vida loca'**_** and '**_**Livin' with the loca**_**.' I wrote this first think partly because I was bored. And I just dig mental problems. It interest me and I work with a few 'light' mental cases. So I know some stuff and I like to sketch a daily day with Sands and Lizz, trying to survive each other and all the time they've got left. **

**So it's not a real story. There all drabbles, and I don't think there will big action OUATIM things in here. It's more talking, thoughts, thinking.**

.-.-.

**Just a short drabble when I wondered how much Sands would hate Christmas. ****Somehow I don't see him sitting around a dinner table, cheering with a glass of wine.**

.-.-.

**Christmas with the loca**

Still a bit dozed off he scampered into the living room. His head hurt like hell and he had a massive hangover. He'd drunk more then to much and couldn't be sure if he had slept or passed out. It didn't really matter anyway, his dreams had started to fade more and more after he became blind. Colours where something mysterious and out of reach.

Except for the times he figured out the right combo between his pills and alcohol. Then there where a few gleams of darker red and sometimes oranges. As the sun. His special tequila sunrise.

When he staggered on as a old man he heard and felt something crack under his boots. Lucky he wore them because it sounded glassy. He shrugged scrapped the small splinters off his boot and took another step.

Another crack and he frowned. 'What the fuck is going on here.' He surely hadn't crashed anything last night or threw with bottles. Last night had been quit peaceful for his doing.

He kneeled down and carefully felt around.

"SANDS!" A alarmingly loud and screech voice yelled. He nearly lost his balance and jumped up.

"WHAT?!"

Somehow he could describe her passes as sulky. "You ruined my balls."

He gave her a look. "You clearly misted out that class about the sex kid."

A sight. "I meant Christmas balls."

"O, you got to be kidding me Lizz. It's fucking melting outside. This is Mexico, here you have other fiesta. Besides I _hate _Christmas."

"Well I like it!" She snapped back. "And I finally have enough money to make something out of it. And I have finally someone to celebrate it with, other then my mom who passed out before dinner, the imaginary images of my dad or my dog."

He growled. 'Great the _being rich _thing start to get to her.' "Who said I aint going to pass out. I hate this fucking day. Way too American your fucking up a country by bringing this tradition in."

"Sands, there is a huge Christmas tree in the mall. I don't think I will ruin the economy just because I bought some decoration."

"Fuck, there is more?!" Pissed he made his way to the sofa and parked his ass. "Make my day even worse, what _did _you bought."

"A tree, lights, cookies, candles. Can you please cut out all the sights!"

"Why? Because that might ruin your Christmas feeling? O gosh I'm almost feeling sorry. Does that mean I won't get anything from Santa?"

"Don't be so sarcastic please." She huffed. "This is my house and I can do what I want with it."

He razed his hand. "Who kidnapped you? Who did the threatening, the killing, the schemes? Who saved your life more then a few times? Who learn you how to shoot? Jeez, I guess that's all little _me_."

He just knew she was making faces at him. But he felt to sick to get up and punch her in the face.

"Well who was the one who had the money in the first place, who saved your ass from the street, who stole a car, who made sure you got some pills before you blew your own head off, who came back for you after everything. Who, look at all the things _Lizz_ did."

"Just details, sugar. Never asked for all of that."

"Uhu." She answered not convinced.

He heard her walked along the room, placing things down. Doing 'stuff'. Funny that even her presence annoyed him like hell. Maybe it was just because it was near Christmas. Maybe that had been the whole reason he nearly drowned himself with cheap beer.

Christmas, the most cheery, peaceful and graceful feast of all. Like fuck no, it was suppose to be. But Christmas was a diehard war. Trying to live through your family, get sick or drunk from all the food and alcohol. But you had to keep smiling and pretend you had the time of your life. Like fuck no.

He swore off Christmas a long time ago. As kid he stopped believing in Santa after a few years being present-less. It had been very hard to let that strong feeling go. It took him long to let that last bit of hope go. His dad had been yelling it was all a joke, but it took him a few more years to face that truth.

So expect feeling so sorry for himself he just hated it. It was easier to hate and doze thought it then to admit all the damn things he'd missed in life. Hating and loathing was good, easy and he could live with that fact.

But her cheeriness really started to bug him. He stood up and made way to the fridge. He pushed the door open and felt around. Some fruit, many stuff to eat. Diet coke for some reason…

"Lizz…"

"Yeah?" It came from the living.

"Did you threw away all the liquor because you a) hate me, b) want to commit your own death or c) just really want to bug a guy."

"It's a D, because I don't want you to get sick on this day."

'Sure hone, that's the reason.' Extremely pissed he yanked the door shut and went back to shot daggers on the sofa.

"Is to much to ask to at least pretend you don't want to shoot me?"

"Don't ask a question you already know the answer of." He growled.

He got left alone for a few hours. She had to do some 'shopping,' or whatever the hell she did outside there apartment. He didn't really care, he bothered. It stung him that she could walk out whenever she wanted. If he freaked enough she could leave. If he started to yell, she could leave. If he wanted her to stay, she could leave.

And he couldn't, because outside, was _outside_. Into the real world. Bad things happened there. And there was to much space, to many noises, voices. He could lose control, orientation. He could lost it. Everything. There was no-one that could help him outside, he had nothing to offer. He knew they where close to the centre of the town. She told him, as she told him many things that happened outside. How the walk, where to buy, where to go if he lost track. She told him many things. Ask him many things. And he would just grunt.

He was scared, freaked out shitless to step outside. She had to know that because she never forced him to get out. That was something hard to live with for him. She knew he was scared and she never used that against him. Never dropped a word or a laugh. Because she knew had bad it scared him.

Sometimes he wished she would kick him out. Just so he had to do it. To have a reason to conquer his fear. And if he lost it, killed someone it would be her fault, not his. Because she forced him. So that kill was on her and not on him, another victim he took.

It was bad to kill, ever person knew it. Bad. He knew it too, only not for the right reasons. Killing would get _them_ back and they would haunt him at night. Whisper and plague him, until he took a hand full of pills and OD'd.

But it felt _good_ to pull the trigger and hear that last gasp fade away. To know where you where capable of, remember how it was like to be _better_, higher and have more power.

Damn how much he missed that. To do whatever he wanted, don't care about anyone else and live la vida loca. That life was behind that door, hidden in darkness and fear. Somehow it was so close and at the same time so far.

"M' back!" Someone yelled. He heard her walk in and jingle with her keys. "It's med time!"

He ignored her completely and shifted on the sofa. She walked into the kitchen and came back with a rattling jar of pills. Again, he ignored her completely.

"C'mon don't act as a five year old!" She pouted. "It's your own fault, you didn't keep at the times."

His head snapped at her side. "Fuck you with your timetables if I feel like shit I can take them every god damn time I want! Your guessing as much with the doses as I do so don't play shrink at me!"

She kept calm and sat down next to him. "I'm sorry."

He growled. "Don't say that."

"Then I won't." She rattled with the jar and placed three pills in his open hand. "Take them."

"I want water with it mommy!" He said with a high childish voice.

"Sands?!"

"O, relax I'm just playing. Don't take everything so serious!" He stood up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He heard her follow him and that really nagged.

"I'm _not _handicapped. Don't follow me around!" He spat at her and took a glass from the sink. "And don't keep that silence up, you know how much I hate that."

"Then quit spitting fire at me!" She reacted angry back. "I know you longer then today, I know you hate it when I tell you what to do."

"Then _stop _doing it!" He snapped and slammed the glass on the cabinet.

"I can't! Not when you need to take those things! If I just let you be you won't take them in and that backfires! Not at first but after a day or two you totally lose it and I have to be the one that can clean up after you! Do you know how frustrating it is to have to tell you time after time _they _are not around, I'm not some random voice that want to hurt you and that I don't want to kill you!"

"Fuck off!" He made a gesture and she could take a step back just in time. He filled himself a glass, took the pills and swallowed. "There, now your happy?"

"Stick out your tongue."

"Lizz you got to be fucking kidding-"

"-Just DO IT!"

He went silence, took another swig of water and stuck out his tongue. That seemed good enough and she walked away. He slammed the glass back into the sink and felt like exploding. The _nerve_ she got to talk to him like that! That little annoying piece of- she could make his blood boil. She damn well know how to push his buttons. Damn, some days he would really hurt her. Not on a verbal basis, that was kind of integrated since the moment she start to snap back. And she could do a very good shouting herself, again know exactly what to call him to make him want to scream, kick, shoot and cry at the same time.

He stood there for about fifteen minutes before he was sure he wouldn't do something to her and had his breath back in control. He relaxed his tense shoulders and walked back into the living room.

"What do you wanna eat, I'm ganna order in a few minutes." She asked him, flipping cannels. He shrugged and sat beside her.

"Your not cooking?"

"No, I'm ganna order, that's what I said."

"But it's _Christmas_." He placed some good-timed disgusted in his words. "You should cook something."

"I can't cook, you can but your not going to because your blind. So I'm going to order something, I don't feel like pizza from the freezer today."

He ignored her comment about his blindness, which he use on a daily basis to get out of chores. Hell, he could do much if he really set his mind to it. She'd been sick for a week one time and he had been able to work around in the house. Sure, it took ten times longer then a normal person but he could do it.

But if she was around, he had his pride. Asking what kind of soap or detergent he was holding was so low. That truly made him feel like a handicapped. Which he wasn't, he was just a bit crippled. But not some retarded who couldn't survive on his own.

"So what would you like?"

"I don't feel like anything."

"Why not."

"Because it's Christmas."

"O."

"And I hate Christmas." He reminded her.

"I know, I'm not all into it myself but… well you know."

He looked up and rose an eyebrow. "What should I know?"

It kept silence at his right for a few moments. "Because this is our first Christmas together."

"O God Lizz! Don't make it sounds like it such a big deal, please!" He cried. "Jesus fucking Christ, talking about overdramatic, this is just one more day we survive without killing each other."

"But it's Christmas!" She whined. "It's important!"

He sighted. "You know, I played along very _nice_ today. I let you keep all the holyday trash but your starting to get on my nerve girl! Your not making me join in your Christmas fever. Don't bother, don't care, leave it alone!"

"But I _do_ bother and I'm _not_ having pizza tonight so you better make up your mind."

"How about a pass-out on the sofa, I need a drink."

"Not tonight." She reminded him. "Your starting to behave like an addict."

"Well send me to the AA and shut your mouth." Miss goody-good with her comments, so annoying. Like he didn't know how fucked he behaved. Like he gave a damn.

"I remembered I really like my 'family' Christmas." She said blunt, clearly not understanding he wanted to be left alone. "It was with my mom and dad and maybe even my nana. I'm not sure anymore. All I remember is that I had a real nice time and got a pink _My Little Pony_."

He gave her a look. "How wonderful for you."

Again his sarcasm didn't have any effect on her stubborn cheeriness. "What's your first Christmas memory?"

His heart skipped a beat and he turned his face at the wall facing them. His first memory of Christmas? He rather didn't think about that. But on the other hand, maybe it would freak her out and make her stop asking stupid questions.

"I remember being tied to the tree in the back-yard for a few hours. It snowed, it got colder and colder until the pain turned numb. I bit my lips over and over to keep feeling something because I was scared I might die if I didn't. I remember looking up into the dark sky and wondering why Santa didn't come." He turned to Lizz. "Thought I wasn't a good boy. _I _didn't got what I ask for."

"That's horrible." She whispered very soft.

He kept his bearing cold. "T's life."

"No it's not. Something like that should be your life. Nobodies life."

"Well it is, it's mine. Get over it." He snapped. "I did."

She shifted on the sofa and God he _knew_ she was giving him _that_ look. "Did you?"

He wished he could close his eyes just for a few moments and punch her in the face, then open them and see what he did. She was to _innocent_, to _sweet_. To good and she shouldn't give a shit. She should freak out and leave him alone.

"I don't think you did." She continued careful. "I don't think you got over many things."

Jackpot. "Maybe, but that's my problem. Not yours."

"In a way it is Sands. 'Cause sometimes you explode because I said something and you go wacko. I don't even know what I said or did to make you do some things you do."

"Can't help you with that darling, it's called triggers. Just uh-" He swallowed and tried to find the right words. "Don't make me do the dishes."

She huffed annoyed. "O sure, you would do anything to weasel out of some chores."

"That's not _it_." He hissed through gritted teeth, wishing he never brought up the subject. "He always made me do that so he had a excuse to-. He would be standing behind the door and I _knew_ he would be there. For every little mistake, for every little slip. He would be _there_. I would practically feel his hot breath in my neck. Believe me, that doesn't make you ease up. And he would be _there_ every time a plate missed the counter. He would be _there_." 'C'mon Lizz be freaked, cry your little heart out and go to your room.'

But deep down he knew she wouldn't. No matter how twisted he would act, how hard he would yell. She wouldn't go to her room. She had to stick around until he broke down. First few times he truly believed she liked it to see him suffer. But you get used to things, some times the spill outs gave him peace of mind for a few days.

"He's evil."

He nodded. "I know, I've been there."

"Do you look like him?"

He bit his lip and his face turned in a grimace. " Split image." He started to chuckle. "You know what's funny and very ironic? The only resemble from my mom where my eyes. _Hers, mine_. The only fucking thing that made me different then him. Got drilled out. I drink, _he _did. I curse, _he _did. I-… well you get the idea."

"But your not him, if you don't want to."

"T' called DNA. Nutjob senior." He pointed at himself. "Nutjob junior."

"It's true your linked, he's your dad-"

"-Was, I killed him."

"_Was_ your dad. But that doesn't mean a thing. I look much like my mom and I'm not an alcoholic bitch who doesn't care about anyone but herself. DNA, is a big part, but not everything. And I also have a dad, somewhere. I got my stubbornness from him for instance."

"Yes, still thanking him for that part." He said sarcastic.

"Maybe you should, else I wouldn't be here right now." She said.

"Yeah, yeah I know. Don't fuss." He stood up.

"What are you going to do?" She asked when he walked off.

"I'm ganna cook. And your going to watch and shut your mouth so next year you can do it yourself."

.-.-.

**Drabble one, I wanted to update it around Christmas but I … forgot about it. **

**X Nuky**


	2. Breakfast

**Breakfast **

.-.-.

She sat across him while he was eating. She leaned on the back of her hand and watched.

Observed what he was doing. She did that a lot now these days. She never know why, or what might trigger him today. But there was always something. Anything. One thing could be enough. Unstable and tricky, that was Sands. But not insane, because he knew the things he did where wrong and he knew he heard voices that weren't there.

Your not insane if you know you are right?

Maybe that was the answer, _maybe_ he was but pushed it away. As he pushed everything away that came to close to confess. Or care, or love. Things that had hurt him long before she ever knew him. You can't erase a past, you can't not even when you try real hard. You might be able to give it a place, but it'll never go away.

She knew that and he knew that. The big difference was, she could give it a place in her life and was now trying to move on.

He ignored it, beat and kicked everything away that might get to close and lived a lie. He wasn't going to be ok. He wasn't going to be like everyone else. Wait, no. That last line didn't fit. He never wanted to be like everyone else. He wanted to be better, stronger, smarter. He wanted to be like a God.

And for a long time, at least she thought, he succeeded. He'd been that 'God'. Unreachable, able to get everything what he wanted from whoever he wanted. He played everything right, and if he didn't he would just kill and smile while he walked over the bleeding body.

That had been Sands, the CIA agent. For a long time. Somewhere deep down he still carried that piece of God. She figured it out, that piece of God was one of the voices.

But it was no longer him, it was there but not him. Not him, not him. She had to keep telling herself that. He chanced, she saw that. She needed to see that.

Frowning she lowered her head and run her fingers over the deep lines from the table. Scares the wood mounted one night. When he played a game.

A cold shiver caught her and her fingers jerked back as if she'd been burned.

A _game_.

One night she'd woke up by something ticking, tapping. Stabbing? With a mixed up feeling she opened her door and started walking through there house, heading for the kitchen. She took her time, catching a breath to scream. Because you never knew what you where going to find.

The door was already open she bit her lip and stepped in. As she'd expected the room was dim, logical because he didn't need any light. Sometimes she forgot, stupid. So stupid to forget. And it's not even forget, because she only knew him being blind.

When she walked in she switched the lights on, hoping he would be there in one piece. Not with the gun, not with the pills, not with the alcohol. Just sit there and snap because she interrupted him.

But as she had exceed that wasn't the case.

He sat at his seat, hunched over there dinner table. On hand on the wood, one hand balled around a kitchen knife. She stood there, unable to move.

He rose the knife, shifted it slightly in the air and thrust it down. She closed her eyes and heard a tab. She reopened her eyes and saw him jerking the knife back out of the wood.

Her feet made a slight shifts on the floor and silently she watch him raze the knife again.

_Tab,tab,tab_, every time the knife sunk between his fingers, _tab, tab, tab_. With every tab her breath got taken away. She wanted to scream at him and beat him so hard his head would hurt for days. But she couldn't, she seemed hypnotized by his concentrated movements.

Suddenly he stopped and stretched his back. _'I won. I don't need to see.'_

'It was all a game for him.' Just a challenge he needed to win. Prove himself, to be better then the voices. Be the God and stand above it all, like before. Only now playing with fire, with his life.

He could be so unliveable.

"Can you stop looking at me?" He lifted his head slightly up and placed his fork down. "You know I can feel it when your looking at me."

His glasses had slightly shifted down his nose and she was able to look behind them. Two gaps. It sounded twisted, but it looked _okay_. Everything what was left from the drill was healed. No irritation, no infection. Just scars and hollowness.

"Sorry." She muttered and stirred through her cornflakes.

"Fuck sorry."

She glared up, annoyed by his boldness. "Fuck you."

"I love to, sugar. I've been a year without." He took of his glasses. "Tell me, is it the _look_?"

"It's the _attitude_ that goes with it." She snored, passing her bowl aside. Sure, it was the look as well. And the fact he never got out and would beat, spit and kill everything that came to close.

Except her, she could come pretty close avoid the blows and threats. You needed to know when to ignore and went to scream back. And if you chose the wrong method, you would know.

Words lost there value most of the times. He cursed, called you shit. Such awful things, but it meant nothing. At least she hoped.

"So what are you going to do today?" He asked, uncomfortable with the silence that fell.

"Dunno, not much." She answered. "I've been thinking about getting back to school." She stood up and picked her bowl up, keeping an eye on his reaction. When she reached in to pick up his plate he grabbed her wrist.

"Not so fast, school explain."

"School. Learning. Education. Job. Enough?" She jerked her arm loose.

"No, your not making sense. Why do you need to go to school? Your have a few million to look after. Don't tell me your afraid to spend that all in a lifetime."

She gulped and sat down next to him. She'd predicted a reaction like this. "Don't be so suspicious. I never finished high school and I would like to be able to get a job."

"Why?"

"Because other people have jobs too."

"Your not 'other people'. You don't need a job, not when you have so much money."

"I-" She closed her mouth. How on earth could she tell him she needed a way out. Be able to leave for a few hours and live life like she was suppose to do. Because the things she dealt with on a regular basis weren't normal. It was everything she knew, but it was not normal. And not healthy. Right now, her only option. But one day that option would die. By a over doses, by another hole in his head or just by age (which she doubted). What would be left for her then? Nothing at all, just enough money to stay alive. But no friends, no family and no way back into the system.

"Thought so." He stated and got up. "I'll ditch breakfast stuff, you do the dishes."

With tears in her eyes she nodded. "Sure."

.-.-.


End file.
